


sir (yes, sir)

by plingo_kat



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 02:10:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3272912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plingo_kat/pseuds/plingo_kat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaidan gets off on calling ManShep "Sir". In bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sir (yes, sir)

**Author's Note:**

> So I started writing this for [a prompt](http://masseffectkink.livejournal.com/585.html?thread=385865#t385865) on the ME kinkmeme but never quite finished it.

It happens one night when Shepard does something more amazing than usual with his tongue, three fingers, and really creative biotics. “Please,” Kaidan is saying – begging, more like, although he doesn’t want to admit it – arching his back, cheek pressed against the mattress. “ _Please_ , oh god, please sir, let me come, I need it, JohnJohn _John_ \--“

Shepard doesn’t say anything afterwards, just blankets him with his body and rumbles like a big contented cat, so Kaidan forgets about it. Doesn’t bring it up.

*

_Not a big deal_ , Kaidan thinks to himself, biting his lip. The spray of the shower beats hot on his face, over closed eyes and down his chest. He’s off-shift, right in the middle of the dead period when nobody should be up except those on duty. To be doubly safe, he’s coded a lock on the door controls. _Not a big deal…_

“Oh.” It’s quiet. Kaidan can barely hear himself over the sound of the shower. His hand has trailed down his chest, fingers running lightly through the wet curls of pubic hair to wrap around his cock. He strokes slowly, savoring.

For what seems like a long time, but is actually only a minute or two (he’s acutely aware that any moment somebody might wake and decide they want a shower as well, or an on-duty marine will want to use the bathrooms right that second) he focuses on the familiar motion of his hand and skin sliding on skin, the heat of the water soaking into his shoulders and over the rest of his body. His tongue runs rhythmically over his lower lip, back and forth, tasting clean water. He imagines the buzz on his mouth, the pressure, to be somebody else kissing him, licking insistently, wanting to be let in.

He widens his stance and moves back a little so the spray hits his chest right at the sternum, breathing out hard as he presses a finger against himself. _This_ is why he locked the doors; the want has been building up in him for days. He can’t take care of the pressure with others around, can only jerk off perfunctorily and it isn’t nearly enough. He has two fingers inside of himself now, arm and back twisted awkwardly as he searches for the right angle.

He’d be teased, probably. The fingers in him would move in and out, shallow, until he was panting and thrusting, torn between pushing forward into the fist around his cock or back onto the fingers spreading him open, toes curled against water-slick tiling.

“Please,” he says. His voice sounds alien, rough under the echoing spray of the shower.

Begging wouldn’t help. He’d get a bite on the shoulder, just enough to feel, and a chuckle as those fingers continued to move just on the edge of deep enough, just on the edge of being satisfying. His shoulders ache. A muscle in his back jumps; his fingers feel like they might be about to cramp up.

He thrusts harder, arches more, drops his head and whines. _Please_ , he mouths, eyes closed. Then, aloud: “Sir.” The word is drawn out in a moan.

He grips himself tight, jerks himself quick and ruthless. “Please,” he says again, panting. “Oh, please, sir.” He’s ashamed of the way his voice goes up a register, high and breathless, but not enough to stop. “Shepard, please. Sir!”

His shoulders are definitely cramping up now, but he doesn’t care. Harsh breaths and the constant rush of water echo in the empty room. As his fingers glance off his prostate he utters a sibilant hiss, cutting off his next _sir_ , air running roughly over his tongue, through his teeth.

“Ssss,” he says again, mouth open, thumb swiping over the head of his cock. “Suh-- _sir_.”

Shepard would tell him to open his eyes, then, voice sharp with reprimand – he’d call Kaidan _Lieutenant_ , and his fingers would tighten on Kaidan’s cock in glorious punishment. Kaidan would blink, eyes hazy and unfocused, try so hard but he’d be so close, so _close_ \--

He’s silent when he comes, head thrown back, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.


End file.
